Double Trouble Strikes Again
by Eclectic Butterfly
Summary: In this sequel to Double Trouble, Shawn brings his twelve year old twin cousins along on a case, much to the disapproval of Henry. There's mystery, squabbling cousins, pineapple, and is that a strange figure in a theater? Set in Season 3 after Episode 4, The Greatest Adventure In the History of Basic Cable.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: I was asked long ago to write a sequel to my Psych tale, Double Trouble, and here I've finally finished it. Enjoy this opening scene!**_

* * *

 **1987**

Headphones over his ears, ten year old Shawn Spencer bobbed his head in time to the music that was playing from his walkman. He was on his stomach, reading a comic book. He gave a start when the headphones were suddenly pulled from his ears and he was deprived of the music. "Dad!" he protested, looking up. "I was listening to that."

"Shawn, I seem to remember that I told you that you weren't going to lay around all summer," Henry Spencer responded, picking up the walkman and stopping the cassette. "The trash is overflowing in the can. Didn't you promise that would take it out everyday if I didn't make you take those dancing lessons?"

"But you never agreed to that deal when it was on the table," Shawn pointed out, sitting up. He made a grab for the walkman but his father held it out of his reach. "You didn't want to have lessons, so we told Mom that the instructor insulted us. There was no deal so technically I don't have to take the trash out."

"Well, I'm your father and I'm telling you that you are going to take the trash out," Henry told him firmly. "Now go."

Heaving a dramatic sigh, Shawn dragged himself off his bed. "And then I can have my walkman back?" he asked hopefully.

"Shawn, you don't need music blaring in your ears all the time," his father informed him. "Go outside and listen to the sound of the world if you want hear something. Listen to the birds singing and the other kids laughing."

Wrinkling his nose, Shawn shook his head. "The sound of the neighbors arguing?" he suggested. "No thanks. I'll just take my walkman."

"Outside. Now."

Defeated, Shawn groaned as he shuffled his feet to his door. He glanced over his shoulder in time to see his father pick up the comic book. "Dad! I was reading that!"

"Shawn, I don't want to hear it," Henry told him. "You know I don't approve of these things."

From downstairs came the thundering organ chords that signalled the beginning of the overture of _Phantom of the Opera_. Father and son cringed at the same time and exchanged new looks. "I guess Mom is still obsessed with that musical thing, huh?" Shawn said.

"I knew I shouldn't have bought it for her," Henry muttered. He moved past Shawn and headed downstairs. "Maddie! You're going to have the neighbors call the police on us if you don't turn it down a little."

Whatever Madeleine Spencer said in response was lost in the orchestration that was playing. Shawn hurried down after his father. He glanced between the trash can and the door. He made a snap decision and rushed outside, leaving the overflowing trash can.

"Shawn!"

* * *

 **(Twenty One Years Later)**

Walking out of the theater, the young woman paused under the lights that light the front of the building and pulled her keys out of her purse. She then slung her purse over her shoulder and set off for the dark street. In one hand she held her keys in a defensive position, and in her left hand she held a whistle. Her eyes were constantly moving as she walked to her car, which was parked under the streetlamp.

She'd just put her key in the lock when the sound of a hand coming down on the top of the car roof made her jump. She looked up, her left hand coming up with the whistle. "Oh, it's you," she said with no little relief, relaxing slightly. "I was just working late and lost track of time. Opening night is coming up soon and I wanted to make sure everything is in order. But I guess you knew that."

The person on the other side of the car made no sound as they moved around the front. "Look, I know you're upset about what happened," the young woman said, moving to remain facing the person. Her voice grew more and more nervous as she spoke. "But I promise everything is going to work out for the best. The show must go on, right?"

She pulled the car door open. "We'll talk tomorrow, alright?" she said, moving to get in.

The other person moved quickly, grabbing her by the back of the neck. There was a thud as the woman's head was slammed against the door frame. Her attacker gently eased her into the car, shoving her to the passenger side. The person climbed in, started the car, and drove away from the streetlight.


	2. All the World' Is Color Television

"You need to call the chief."

"I do not," Shawn Spencer protested. He was sitting in the front passenger seat of the Gus' car, fondly referred to as the Blueberry. "The chief knows she can call me up whenever there's a case that Lassiter can't handle. Just because it's been a few weeks is no reason to bother her with information she already knows."

"Shawn, if you want your agency to keep running, we need cases on a regular basis," Burton 'Gus' Guster argued as he turned a corner. " _Paying_ cases. It's been four weeks since the last case from the police. Besides, it's good business to keep you employer reminded that you're available. Call the chief."

"After breakfast," Shawn said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Too early and I'll just be an annoyance."

Gus rolled his eyes. "I think she's used to that by now," he responded. "Call her now. Otherwise you're just going to try to get out of it later on."

With a long-suffering sigh, Shawn pulled his phone out. Before he could hit the speed dial for the Santa Barbara police station, his phone notified him of a text. Frowning, the brown haired man read the message. "Hold on a moment, Gus," he said. He hit a contact icon. "We might need to take a detour before we get breakfast."

"What's going on?" Gus asked, glancing over. "Is it a case?"

Shawn shrugged. "I don't know. My dad just said to- Hey, Dad," he said as the call connected. "What can the spirits do for-. What? You're kidding. No, I can take one... No need to thank-...Right. Gus and I will be there in a few minutes."

"Is your dad in some kind of trouble?" Gus asked as his partner ended the call. He turned in the direction of Henry Spencer's home.

"Yeah. Double Trouble, actually" Shawn answered with a gleeful grin. When Gus sent a bewildered glare at him, the detective clarified, "Ethan and Evelyn are apparently spending the week with him while Mom is working, and the two of them fighting. Dad wants them separated for a little while, so one of them is going to be with us today."

"Which one is coming with us?" Gus asked with suspicion.

Putting on an innocent expression, Shawn glanced over. "Does it matter?" he responded. "We have to help my dad out here, Gus."

Gus' snort said he thought differently. "You said they take turns being practical and psychotic," he pointed out. "If I have to put up with another version of you, I'm going to turn this car around and you can go get the kid on your own. I'll get my own brunch without you."

"First of all, I don't think I like you calling either of my cousins psychotic," Shawn told him. "Although the one in the army is a little on the weird side...but I digress! Second of all, how would I get Ethan or Evie if you don't go along? My dad would flip if I showed up with my motorcycle." He paused. "You know what? Turn around. I'll take my motorcycle. I haven't messed with my dad's heart rate yet this week."

"Shawn, you didn't answer my question. Which one is coming with us?"

The other man shrugged. "We'll find out when we get there, Gus," he replied. He looked down at his hand as his phone rang again. He accepted the call with a cheerful, "Shawn Spencer, Psychic." He listened for a few moments, making Gus glance over anxiously. "Absolutely, Chief. We are in the area now. We'll drop in right away."

He ended the call. "New case?" Gus asked. "I told you you should have called her."

"Make a left here," Shawn instructed. "We're needed at a theater and not because I'm going to make my musical debut."

"What about your dad?"

Shawn grinned. "An hour more isn't that long," he answered. "And the delay will make him appreciate even more the favor I'm doing him."

* * *

It wasn't the theater exactly where they went. A small office building beside the historic building was where Shawn headed. He was the first to spot the chief talking to a balding man in front of the receptionist desk. "Chief! You called and we came," the 'psychic' detective called out. "What can we do for you?"

Chief Vick shook hands with the man and then turned to meet the newcomers. "Mr. Spencer, Mr. Guster," she said. "I've called you hear as a favor to the mayor, who is a friend of Mr Carter, the manager of the theater. One of the stage hands, Agnes Simmons, hasn't come into work the past two days. The mayor and Mr. Carter are good friends, so I offered to have you two come in and check it out."

"No one is allowed to have a sick day anymore?" Shawn asked in horror. "What's with this?"

"She hasn't answered any of our calls," Mr. Carter said as he joined them. "I personally went to Agnes' house and she wasn't there." He did a double take as he saw Shawn. "Wait a moment. Aren't you that guy from that soap opera?"

Shawn grinned with pride. "That's not creepy at all," Gus remarked, shaking his head. "And I mean you checking on a girl and not the knowing Shawn. Is it standard practice to check up on your female employees like that?"

Mr. Carter eyed him in a puzzled way. "I will leave you in Mr. Spencer's capable hands," Chief Vick said, sounding eager to escape. "Mr. Spencer, report to me one you know anything."

"Is there any reason to think that this Agnes person would be in some kind of trouble?" Shawn asked, taking charge as the chief hurried away. "Did she have enemies? Did she paint a piece of scenery the wrong color? Did she steal the script?"

"As a matter of fact, Agnes collaborated on the script and the music," Carter informed him, leaning against the desk and crossed his arms. Though his right hand was hidden under his left arm, Shawn saw the man flex his fingers. "And as far as I know, everyone loved her. She was a beautiful girl and very talented. The dialogue she added to the script was spot on."

"'Was' a beautiful girl," Shawn repeated, picking up on the past tense. He gave a laugh, looking over at Gus. "She's not dead yet, is she? Just missing, I thought the chief said. Let's not go jumping to any sudden conclusions here."

The manager coughed, his face turning red. "No, of course not," he answered. "I just...I can't think of any reason she would just disappear."

"When was she last seen?" Gus asked.

"Two nights ago, so Wednesday night" Carter responded after a moment. He nodded. "Yes, it was Wednesday. She was the last one here. She said she had some work she wanted to finish before she left. Agnes was... is dedicated to the play. She loves the book and music. She was-is a very artistic person."

Shawn frowned at him, noting the continual struggle to keep using the present tense. "What book is the play based on?" Gus asked with interest. "That might be important. To the case."

The manager turned to him. "Pride and Prejudice," Carter responded with little enthusiasm. "But with a twist. At least that's what the writer keeps telling me."

"'It is a truth universally acknowledged' that Pride and Prejudice does not need any twists," Shawn declared. "Unless it's to add in zombies, then it's kind of cool. But you can't do that because someone else has already done it so it can't be called a real twist."

"When did you read Pride and Prejudice?" Gus demanded.

"I didn't," Shawn answered. "I once watched five minutes of the movie with Keira Knightly."

Mr. Carter looked between them uneasily. "We're going to have to take a look around and talk to everyone Agnes worked with," Shawn declared, turning back to the case at hand. "We'll let you know if we discover anything."

"Yes, of course," Carter said, checking his watch. "No one will be at the theater now, but they should get there in a few hours. I have to make a few phone calls. Just tell everyone that I approved of your presence here and I expect them all to cooperate."

"A few hours? Fantastic," Shawn answered. "That gives us plenty of time for brunch."


	3. Acquiring A Minion

_**A/N: Well, since I couldn't get on this site on my usual posting day, here it is a day late.**_

* * *

An hour after having received the call from his father, Shawn climbed out of Gus' tiny blue car and walked up to the front door with his friend on his heels. "It's kind of quiet for two kids fighting, isn't it?" Gus commented as his partner knocked on the door.

"Maybe they're giving each other the silent treatment," Shawn answered a moment before the door swung open to reveal a rather frazzled looking Henry. "Hey, Dad. You called for backup and here we are."

"Where have you been?" Henry demanded. "I called you an hour ago, Shawn."

"Which one of the twins is coming with us?" Gus asked instantly.

Giving his son one last glare, Henry lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "Take your pick," he answered. "Evie is on the back porch with her sketchbook and Ethan is playing with his phone in the kitchen. They're not talking to each other or me at the moment. I don't even know what they're mad about. I can't get either of them to talk to me about it."

Shawn sent Gus a triumphant look at guessing right before he stepped into the house. "They'll talk to me," he said confidently. "You didn't tell me you had them this week, Dad. When did you decide this was happening? I could have made adjustments to my own schedule."

Gus scoffed. "What schedule?"

"Shawn, you didn't ask and I didn't feel I had to run my life decisions through you," Henry told him sharply. He sighed and shook his head. "The tension between them is driving me nuts. I thought raising you would have given me some experience for anything but these two? I have no point of reference for them."

The three men walked into the kitchen. where twelve year old Ethan Spencer was half sprawled on the table, staring at the phone which was in his outstretched arms. "Hey, E," Shawn said cheerfully. "What say you to getting out of this place for the day?"

The boy turned his head and glared. "No," he said. "Go away."

Frowning at the immediate refusal, Shawn leaned against the table. "Why not, Ethan?" he asked, a cajoling tone in his voice. "Gus and I are going for breakfast, which is without question the greatest meal a person can consume. You don't really want to stay behind and do nothing for the rest of the day, do you?"

"Actually, I was going to take them fishing," Henry interrupted. "It's the perfect day to be out on the boat."

Shawn twisted his face into a grimace. "See, Ethan? There are your only options for the day," he said persuasively. "Spend a boring day out on a boat and not catch anything, or hang with the cool people and get delicious breakfast. I think your choice is obvious here. Let's go."

There was a moment of silence and Ethan lifted his head. "I would rather be out on a boring boat than spend time with a liar and a fake," he said bluntly.

The cold disdain made Shawn freeze for a moment. Then, guessing the source of that accusation, he sent a glare at his dad, who held his hands up. "Hey, I haven't said a word about what you do in front of him," Henry protested, correctly guessing the question behind the glare. "Don't look at me."

"Detective Lassiter told me all about it," Ethan said, sitting up straight. He crossed his arms. "No one can be as good as you claim you are."

"Well, there's your problem right there, Ethan," Shawn responded quickly. "Ol' Lassie has given me nothing but trouble from day one. Personally, I think he's jealous of my impeccable record at solving cases. There's the proof right there of how good I am. And then there's my hair. He will never achieve such awesome hair."

Ethan stared at him with narrowed eyes. "Whatever," he said. He put his head down on the table. "Go away. I'll go fishing with Uncle Henry."

Shawn waited a moment and then pushed away from the table. "Well, I guess I'm just going to have to try my luck with Evie. She and I have a connection," he said to no one in particular. When Henry and Gus moved to follow him, he raised a hand. "I don't need an audience. Just give me a few minutes with her."

He went out onto the porch. Evie was sitting on the step. On her lap was her sketchbook and a pencil was in her hand, but there were no lines on the blank paper. She didn't move as Shawn came up behind her.

"Evie, just the girl I was looking for," Shawn declared, crouching behind her. "Gus and I need a partner for a magnificent breakfast. Ethan has declined the opportunity but I know you have more sense than that."

For a moment, he thought the girl was going to ignore him. She finally sighed and turned her head. "Ok," she said., closing her sketchbook. "I'll just grab my backpack."

"That's it? Just ok? No excitement? I see how I rate in your book," Shawn complained, puzzled by her lack of enthusiasm. He glanced over his shoulder and leaned forward. "What if I told you I had a new case and I have to go to the scene of the crime before we can have food?"

"New case?" Evie asked, a spark of interest showing in her eyes. "What is it?"

"Yep," Shawn answered with a grin. "We're not going to say anything about this before we get in the car, got it? Then I'll tell you all about it. We're going to let Ethan and my dad do their fishing thing while we have an adventure."

A smile curved the girl's lips and she nodded. She hopped up to her feet and followed her cousin into the house. "Well, I think our work here is done," Shawn announced. "Come on, Gus. Breakfast awaits us. Dad, I'll bring Evie back in one piece tonight."

Henry frowned at him in suspicion as he followed the trio to the door. "Shawn? Is there something you're not telling me?"

"Always, Dad," Shawn called over his shoulder as he left the porch. He put his hand on Evie's shoulder and hurried her down the sidewalk. "See you tonight."

At the car, Evie crawled into the backseat and leaned forward. "But we will get breakfast later?" she asked hopefully. She waved at her uncle.

"Absolutely," Shawn responded as Gus pulled away from the curb. He waited until they were out of sight of the house. "Gus, buddy. Let's head to the theater."

"What happened to breakfast?" Gus asked.

"Case first, food second, just this once."

* * *

Closing the door, Henry shook his head. "He's up to something, you know," Ethan said from the kitchen doorway.

"Yeah. Tell me something I don't know," Henry responded with half a chuckle. He went to the closet to find Shawn's old fishing supplies. "But as long as he keeps your sister out of trouble, I don't have a problem with it."

Ethan scowled. "Evie? She's little miss goody two shoes," he said derisively. "She wouldn't get into trouble even she was pushed into it."

Raising an eyebrow, Henry turned and crossed his arms. "What's going on between you anyway?" he asked. "I've never seen you fight like this before."

"She's never been unreasonable before," Ethan answered disdainfully. "I don't want to talk about Evie. Are we going fishing or what?"

"Fine," Henry said, deciding to bide his time. "Let's go catch some fish."


	4. Into the Theater Or Is It Theatre?

"Your dad is not going to be happy with this, Shawn," Gus said as he followed his partner through the double doors that were the entrance to the small theater. He glanced around the hallway. "It's about time the city decided to open this place up. Every town needs an amateur theater for young aspiring actors to get their start."

"What my dad doesn't know can't make him angry, and you don't need to have a theater to get a start," Shawn said over his shoulder. He put his hand on Evie's shoulder. "This, young apprentice, is where wannabe actors come to feel like they are contributing to art. It's a terrible place and you should avoid it in the future if you can."

"Shawn!" Gus protested in horror at his friend's assessment. "Evie, don't listen to him. Theaters can be the very heart of a city. They bring culture to any community and it's a great place to spend an evening."

Evie glanced between them. "So why were you called here, Shawn?" she asked. "What kind of crime was committed?"

They crossed the lobby to the auditorium. "There's a missing person," Shawn reported.

"What are you doing here?" the skinny young man down at the front called out. "Do you have permission to be here?"

"Mr. Carter said we could come in and ask a few questions," Gus informed him quickly. "We're looking into Angie Simmons' disappearance."

The black haired man sighed. "Of course he did," he said. "I'm Hal Martin, the director. I thought Mr. Carter said that Angie was taking some personal time?"

"Is that what he told you?" Shawn asked as Evie moved closer to the stage

"Stay away from there, please," Martin said swiftly. He put his clipboard under his arm. "The stage is not a child's playground."

Evie's eyes widened with offense. "I'm not a child!" she protested.

"How well did you know Angie?" Shawn asked, getting the man's attention. When Martin faced him, Evie climbed up onto the stage and began looking around. "Mr. Carter said she was a stagehand and helped write the play?"

"Stagehand?" Martin repeated. "Angie was more than a stagehand. She made all of this possible. We wouldn't have a play if it wasn't for her." He was interrupted by his phone, which he pulled it from his pocket. "Excuse me, I need to take this. You'll find everyone working backstage."

As he hurried down the aisle the front of the building, Martin answered his phone. "Evie, come on down," Shawn called. "We're going to have to make a few enquires and I will have to...feel what I can feel."

Gus rolled his eyes. "Ethan keeps saying you're a fake," Evie said, sitting on the edge of the stage. She kicked her feet. "He says you don't 'feel' or 'divine' stuff. You just guess and hope that you get it right."

Slamming his elbow into Gus's stomach and effectively keeping him from agreeing with that particular assessment, Shawn answered, "That is ridiculous. Aren't you supposed to be the reasonable, calm person this year? Why would you listen to the wild, unsubstantiated imaginings of Ethan? He is not getting his information from a reliable source."

"Since when do you use words like unsubstantiated?" Gus demanded in a low voice. He dodged the elbow Shawn tried to slam into his side.

Evie dropped her gaze. "He won't listen to me."

Gus and Shawn exchanged looks and shrugged. "Well, let's talk about this later," Shawn decided. "Let's go find our missing girl. I hope she's not having a romantic trip with her lover making sweet-."

"Shawn, you might want to watch what you're saying in front of your cousin," Gus hissed. "She's only twelve."

"I was going to say music," Shawn responded defensively. "Come on. Let's go back stage."

* * *

"Now you're not going to catch anything unless you have the right kind of bait," Henry instructed, handing the baited pole over to his nephew. "And then, you have to have patience. Let the fish come to you."

Wrinkling his nose, Ethan gingerly took the pole. "I think I should have gone to breakfast with Shawn and Gus, even if they are liars," he said. "Can I just sit and play a game or something?"

"No. Now cast your line just like I do," Henry responded. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Ethan grudgingly obeyed. "So, why don't you tell me what had you and Evelyn yelling at each other this morning?"

The pre-teen gave a groan. "Can't it just stay between me and her?"

"Not in my house, kiddo," Henry answered. "And don't try to tell me this is all over you thinking Shawn is a fake and Evie believing in him."

Ethan gave a huff. "Well, it's still stupid that she believes him," he complained. "She's supposed to be the practical one. I'm the one who's supposed to believe crazy stuff. So if I can't believe him, she shouldn't either."

"So I'm guessing this whole argument you two are having is coming down to your agreement to trade off being responsible every year."

Startled, Ethan looked over. "Yeah, I guess so," he agreed reluctantly. "Evie's better at being logical and the one everyone can rely on, so I think she should just keep doing that when the year is up. I can be the troublemaker."

"And Evie doesn't agree."

"No, she insists that a deal is a deal."

Henry considered it carefully, knowing he had to approach the situation with caution. The wrong word could send Ethan down Shawn's path, and he really didn't want to see that happen. "What made the two of you come up with this plan in the first place?" he asked.

"Well, when we were in first grade, we kind of drove our teacher up a wall," Ethan confessed. There was a note of glee in his voice. "Really. He quit halfway through the year. Some say he ended up in a mental institution."

"Stick with the facts that you know, Ethan, not hearsay."

The boy sighed. "Fine," he said reluctantly. "Anyway, Mr. Alan said that we were impossible and that it was too much to expect anyone to put up with us both in one classroom. Evie and I discussed it. I mean, we couldn't be split up, so we agreed that one of us would be reliable and good one year and let the other be normal."

Never mind that 'normal' wasn't the word Henry would use for the antics that he'd seen Ethan, and Shawn when he was the same age, get into. "So at six years old, you thought that the best thing to do was one of you pretended to be someone you're not for an entire year," Henry said slowly.

"Yeah, and it's worked out great these past six years," Ethan answered enthusiastically. "Except for when I had to be responsible. Evie had all the fun then. I had to apologize for stuff she did. It wasn't fair but that's the way it had to be."

Henry bit back a chuckle at that. "What if you both stopped being responsible and you were just yourselves?" he asked. "Forget this trading off every other year thing."

Astonished, Ethan stared at him. "What do you mean?" he asked. "Everyone says that two of us is too much. We're doing the world a favor with our deal. I just have to convince Evie to stay responsible from now on and everything will be great."

"Look, Ethan-."

Ethan's line tightened. "Hey, I think I have something," he exclaimed. "Uncle Henry, I caught something!"

"Calm down," Henry advised, securing his pole. "Reel it in slow and I'll grab the net."

He turned to get the net. "Uh, Uncle Henry?" Ethan said uncertainly. "I don't think it's a fish."

"What do you mean?" Henry demanded apprehensively, spinning around.

The boy was half leaning out of the boat. "Hey, that's a body!"


	5. Truth and Pancakes

_**A/N: This is coming early because I will be away from internet on my usual posting day. Enjoy!**_

* * *

" _Oh, yeah. Agnes is definitely the driving force behind this play. In fact, she really needs to be here to work things out."_

" _Agnes? I thought the manager said that she was taking a few days to de-stress."_

" _Simmons is an emotional basket case right now. I heard her yelling at someone just the other day. She always does that when everything isn't working out just how_ _ **she**_ _thinks it should be. She is a pain to work with sometimes."_

" _Simmons is missing? Does this mean that the leading lady role is open? You know we're opening soon. We have to have a leading lady and if she's not here..."_

Not a single person working behind the stage had any idea what could have happened to Agnes Simmons, and Shawn knew they weren't lying. He announced that he couldn't be expected to correctly hear the spirits on an empty stomach and demanded Gus take him for breakfast. The trio ended up in a small cafe not far from the theater to discuss the matter further.

"I have to agree with the manager," Gus commented as he dug into his pancakes. "This Agnes Simmons doesn't sound like the kind of girl who would just leave without a word to anyone. And the manager was right. Everyone loves her."

"But apparently, Agnes did just that" Shawn pointed out, thinking back to the woman who had seemed delighted with the news. "And her understudy, Jenna Williams didn't seem at all upset about the news."

"Maybe she had something to do with Agnes disappearing?"

"I don't think so," Shawn responded confidently. He sent a glance at Evelyn, who was hunched over her sketchbook. "Evie, I thought you wanted those upside down pineapple pancakes. They're getting cold."

"I have to finish this before I forget," Evie mumbled, her pencil making quick marks on the paper.

Shrugging, Shawn turned back to Gus. "The thing about people who are universally loved, is that there's always someone who _doesn't_ love them," he said. "Look at me and Lassiter."

"Shawn, you cannot use yourself as an example in this situation," Gus objected. "So, if it's not Jenna Williams, who else doesn't like our missing woman? What's the plan going to be? None of the video cameras on the street caught anything. Should we try to contact the family?"

"What family? Her father died a few years ago."

Evie gave a sudden gasp, drawing their attention. "Shawn! Look!" she exclaimed, spinning the book around to face them. The scene she had sketched was a view from the stage with the seats and balcony taking prominence. With the tip of her pencil, he girl pointed to the top of the sketch. "Do you see him?"

It took a moment before Shawn's eyes focused in on the shadowy figure that was at the ceiling. He grabbed the sketch and pulled it closer. "Now that is interesting. How did he get up there?" he wondered.

"There's probably an access point for repairs and such," Gus explained, leaning over to examine the sketch. "The whole view does have a Phantom of the Opera feel, doesn't it?"

Shawn rolled his eyes. "I didn't randomly add a person, just to make it look cool," Evie said, sounding offending. She pulled her pancakes closer and picked up her fork. "Remember? I draw what I see. I saw that person up there and just didn't realize it until now. We were being watched the whole time we were at the theater."

Frowning, Shawn thought back. "No one mentioned that someone was up there doing work," he said slowly. "Do we maybe have a creep living above the theater? Or is it a ghost?"

For a moment, the three of them paused and exchanged looks. "Or maybe it's like in Phantom of the Opera?" Gus asked, his voice shaky. "Maybe there's someone who grabbed Agnes? Someone who is pretending to be a ghost?"

"Who names their kid 'Agnes', anyway? Such a thing should be a crime," Shawn wondered. Gus scowled at him, though Evie looked as though she was seriously considering the question. "Alright. Looks like we're going on a ghost hunt."

Breakfast was finished and Gus left with the bill, though Shawn assured him that it would go on their business expense. The psychic detective and Evie walked ahead, headed for the theater which was just down the street. "It's not like you and Ethan to fight," Shawn commented, deciding to take advantage of the privacy. "What's up?"

Evie gave a huff. "Even when he's the crazy one, he doesn't usually drive _me_ crazy," she answered, adjusting her backpack. "But he's trying to say that I ought to be the responsible one forever now, instead of switching back at the beginning of the school year. And he keeps insisting that being responsible means I can't believe in you."

"Why don't you both give up the responsible stuff? It's really over rated anyway. Trust me. I know."

"But that wouldn't be good," the twelve year old objected, looking of genuinely concerned. "Everyone said we were impossible before we figured out what we had to do. One of us has to be reasonable to balance out the other one. It's important."

"Or you could just be yourself and be equal amounts of crazy and not responsible," Shawn suggested. "And if people can't handle it, it's their own problem."

Tilting her head, Evie frowned. "Could we get away with that?"

Shawn's phone rang but he decided to ignore it for the moment. "I don't see why not," he answered as they climbed the steps to the front of the theater. A window washer was cleaning the ornate doors. "My good man, I have a new question to ask you. Have there been rumors of the theater being haunted?"

The young man straightened up. "Yeah," he answered with a laugh. "But that's not very strange for a place like this. It has some history and at least one actress killed herself here. No one likes being upstaged, you know."

"That's very true, but have those rumors become more common in the last few months?" Shawn asked to clarify the situation.

Tilting his head, the window washer considered the question. "Yeah, they have," he responded. "Props have gone missing, lighting has fallen, a couple of the players have gotten sick. In fact, Mr. Carter almost got taken out by a falling background just a few days ago. You know, the normal things that happen in a theater."

Glancing over his shoulder, Shawn saw Gus hurrying towards them, his phone up to his ear. "Do you believe in ghosts?" he pressed.

Shrugging his shoulders, the man sloshed water onto the glass. "Not usually, but there's no denying strange things have been going on lately," he answered. "I just wrote it off as an old building being opened up. Stuff is bound to happen."

"Shawn, you need to answer your phone," Gus said, joining them. He pulled his friend to the side and continued in a low voice, certain that Evie wouldn't overhear, "The chief was trying to call you. We need to go down to the station. The body of Agnes Simmons was discovered by your dad and Ethan while they were out fishing."

There was a sharp gasp and Shawn looked back to see that Evie's face had gone pale. "Ethan found a dead body?" the girl asked.

"Dead body?" the window washer repeated, overhearing. He straightened up. "What dead body? Who's Ethan?"

Shocked, Gus straightened. "How did either of you hear me?" he demanded.

"That's what she said," the man responded, pointing at Evie.

"Evie reads lips, Gus," Shawn reminded, shaking his head. "Looks like our ghost hunt has to wait. Let's get down to the station."


	6. The Switch-Up

Reaching the station, Evie bolted to where Ethan was seated. She threw herself into the seat next to her twin and began to talk quickly. "Hey, McNab," Shawn called out, spotting the friendly officer. "Can you keep an eye on those two? They shouldn't give you any trouble."

Gus sent a look of disbelief at his partner. "Yeah, no problem, Shawn," McNab answered immediately. "Those are your cousins, right? Hey, the chief is down in the morgue."

"Thanks man," Shawn said, bumping fists with the officer before leading the way to where the chief, and presumably Head Detective Lassiter, were waiting.

"You know they're going to start fighting again," Gus said as he fell into step next to Shawn.

"Gus, don't be Statler and Waldorf from The Muppet Show," Shawn scolded. "You don't know that. In fact, I suspect that by the time we finish down here they will everything settled between them. Then, they will go with my dad, and we will find our theater ghost. That's my plan for the day."

This last was declared as he pushed open the doors of the morgue. Detective Carlton Lassiter sent looks of thinly veiled disgust towards him. Chief Vick and Detective Juliet O'Hara just looked confused. Henry rolled his eyes as Woodrow Strode looked up. "Shawn. Burton," the coroner greeted. "I didn't know you were coming."

"Woody, my man," Shawn responded enthusiastically. He turned his attention to body on the table, where the white sheet was pulled down to her neck. Agnes' brown hair was matted from being in the ocean, but his focus went to the bruise on her forehead. "So, what have I missed? Anything?"

"Mr. Spencer, Mr. Strode was just explaining to us that Agnes Simmons was murdered," Chief Vick responded. "Please continue, Mr. Strode."

"There's not much more I can tell you on first glance," Woody informed them, turning back to the body. "My first guess would be she met with foul play. Or she hit a rock as she jumped into the ocean when she committed suicide."

"She wasn't a suicide," Henry spoke up before Shawn could. The psychic detective sent a betrayed look at his father. "That mark on her forehead? That was a deliberate attack. She was murdered and her body left in the ocean to disappear. Only my nephew's fishing line brought her up before that happened."

Chief Vick glanced at the retired cop. "Yes, thank you, Henry," she said. "Mr. Strode, please continue with the autopsy. I want to know everything as soon as you do. Detective Lassiter, you will be taking the lead on this. I'm sure Mr. Spencer will be happy to share anything he discovered earlier at the theater with you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a mayor to break this news to."

As she left the room, Lassiter faced Shawn with a triumphant smile. "Looks like I'm taking over for you, psychic," he said. "I'm going to need-."

"I will convey any messages from beyond to you as soon as I get them," Shawn informed him, interrupting the detective. He moved closer to the body. "My inbox is currently empty though. But, there is a ghostly figure lurking at the theater. I'm sure you understand that Gus and I are the only ones equipped to handle that capture."

Rolling his eyes, Lassiter strode from the room. "If you know anything, you have to tell us, Shawn," Juliet said before she hurried after her partner.

"Any theories, Shawn?" Woody asked eagerly.

Staring down at the body, Shawn responded slowly, "The answer is back at the theater. I can feel it." He scanned the body for other clues, but nothing appeared.

Scoffing, Henry walked out. "If I need anything, I'll be back," Shawn informed Woody. The two bumped fists and then Shawn left the coroner to his work. His dad was waiting for him in the hallway. "Wow, Dad. I have to say I'm disappointed in you. You never took me to find a dead body when I was twelve."

"It's not like I meant to," Henry responded defensively. "And what's this I hear about you taking on a new case while you have Evie? Are you crazy? She doesn't need that kind of influence in her life, Shawn."

"I didn't show her a dead body," Shawn pointed out almost gleefully.

Henry's eyes narrowed and he shook his head. "Nevermind that," he snapped. "I think I figured out what's the problem between-."

"The twins? Oh, yeah, I know what it is," Shawn interrupted. "I've already taking care of that too, Dad. In fact, I bet that once we get upstairs, all will be well between Ethan and Evie. You can take them and I can get back to my case. Everybody wins."

"You think so?" Henry asked skeptically.

Suddenly suspicious, Shawn eyed his father for a moment. He jogged up the steps and came face to face with Detective Lassiter. "This is not a daycare, Spencer," the detective said sharply. "Your cousins need to leave."

Leaning to the side, Shawn looked beyond Lassiter. Sure enough, Evie and Ethan were standing in the middle of the hallway, their faces mere inches from each other. Ethan jabbed his finger against his sister's arm, and she retaliated by shoving him.

McNab hurried over. "Hey, Shawn," he said nervously. "I took my eyes off them for just a minute, I swear."

Containing a sigh, Shawn nodded at the officer. "That's not good," Gus commented from beside him. "You took care of it, huh?"

Henry pushed past them and strode towards the pre-teens. "Evelyn! Ethan! That's enough." he barked out. The twins exchanged one last grimace before they faced their uncle. "Ethan, you're going with Shawn. Evelyn, let's go."

The twins looked sullen at the decree. His hand on the girl's shoulder, Henry marched out with Evelyn. Ethan crossed his arms and glared at Shawn. "Right, well, this is going to take the fun out of the afternoon," the psychic detective decided.

* * *

"Why couldn't I stay with Shawn?" Evie asked as she climbed out of the truck. "Ethan hates him right now and I want to help Shawn find the person at the theater. It sounds like the Phantom of the Opera story and I want to be part of it."

"Your brother will learn that he can't go through life angry at someone, otherwise he _will_ end up like Shawn," Henry answered as he slammed the driver's door shut. "He'll get over his anger if he spends the day with Shawn. And I also think that my son isn't a good influence on you, Evie. You don't need to get any more bad ideas in your head."

Wrinkling her nose, Evie followed him up the front steps. "What kind of bad ideas?" she asked.

"Oh, you know, searching for a potential killer," Henry answered over his shoulder. "You're too young to be thinking about that kind of thing."

"At least it wasn't a dead body."

Pausing with his hand on the doorknob, Henry closed his eyes with a sigh. "None of you are going to let me live that down, are you?"

Evie tilted her head, frowning at him. "So now what am I supposed to do for the rest of the day?" she asked. "Since Ethan is going to have all the fun."

"Well," Henry said, opening the door. "How about we work on your memory?"

The girl groaned. "Do we have to?" she asked. "Why isn't it good enough that I can draw my memory perfectly? Do you make Ethan practice his hearing? No, I don't think so. You took him on a fishing trip to find a dead body."

"What if you're in a situation where you can't draw?" Henry responded, turning to face her. She frowned and her expression became uncertain. "Besides, you want to be like Shawn, don't you? Do you think he didn't train his skills? It doesn't matter whether Ethan trains or not. This isn't about him. It's about you."

Evie's eyes widened. "You trained Shawn to be psychic? That's awesome!"

Henry sighed again. "No, I didn't train him to be what he is now," he answered. "He just chooses to use his training the way he does. Now go grab ten glasses from the kitchen."

Exasperated, Evie groaned and dragged her feet to the kitchen.


	7. The Phantom of the Theater Is

Enthusiastically, Shawn climbed into the upper levels of the theater. "Ethan, you can stay down there if you want," he called down over his shoulder. "There's really not going to be anything interesting to see."

And he really meant it. Old props were stacked together in haphazard fashion. The entire attic had little light. Gus pulled himself up through the small access hatch. "You should have just left him in the car," he commented, grimacing at the dust on his hands. He glanced around at the cobwebs with suspicion that a spider was lurking. "He hasn't said a word since we left the department and I don't think anything it going to change."

"Why are we up here?" Ethan asked as he crawled through the small opening. "It's disgusting up here."

Shawn shot his best friend a look of triumph. "This is our our stalker has been hiding," he declared. "Evie saw him up here and I don't think he'll have gone anywhere."

"She did?" Ethan asked with a frown. "What was she doing here?"

"Helping me invest a missing person who has since turned up dead," Shawn answered, turning his phone around to act as a flashlight. "What? She didn't tell you about it? I thought that would be the first thing she would tell you. She was pretty excited about the whole thing."

Ethan scowled as though he realized he was talking to the person he was angry with. "Whatever," he muttered. "Can we just get out of here?"

"He really likes that word," Gus remarked, looking at the old posters that were on the wall.

"Do you know a kid who doesn't?" Shawn pointed out.

Gus conceded the fact with a slight shrug. A tall coat rack abruptly fell to the ground startling them all, eliciting at least one frightened yelp. All three of them stared at it. "What was that?" Ethan asked, speaking up first a few seconds later. If his whisper was a little shaky, neither of the two men mentioned it. "There's really someone up here? I thought you were making it up."

"It was probably just unsteady," Shawn responded unconvincingly. "And yes, Evie saw someone hanging around up here."

"Shawn, are you certain this place isn't really haunted?" Gus asked in a hushed tone of voice. "I don't do haunted places."

"Don't be a grape lollipop, Gus," Shawn advised. He cleared his throat and continued with more confidence, "Evie didn't see a ghost and I have no doubt there is no spectre behind the incidents that have plagued the theater. Come on. Let's find our stalker."

"So, what good is a 'psychic' if there is no ghost?" Ethan asked shrewdly. "Shouldn't you know for certain that there isn't a ghost?"

Shawn paused. "That is a good question," he said and then set off along the wall. He spotted indistinct footprints in the dust. He followed them to a small desk where a single sheet of lined music paper was resting.

"You do realize that you didn't answer his question," Gus said as he joined Shawn at the desk.

"I thought I did," Shawn answered, picking up the sheet of music. He turned it over, but didn't find any writing or notes on it. "Mr. Carter said that Agnes helped with the music for this play, right? I think maybe she had some help."

Ethan rolled his eyes. "Next you're going to tell me that you feel the guy's fingers on the paper," he said, his tone mocking, "and that you can hear the notes he meant to write down. Or something like that."

"That would be interesting, but no," Shawn responded. "We have to go straight to the source. Gus, did you find out if anyone gets their mail delivered here? Besides the bills and stuff that go to the manager's office."

"Wait. People actually get mail delivered places?" Ethan asked in astonishment. "Like physical mail?"

"Yes, they do," Gus informed him and then turned to his partner. "And no, Shawn. The only mail that is delivered here is for the manager. I think if someone is hiding here, they wouldn't have their mail sent here. They would probably have a box at the post office."

Shawn shrugged, put the paper down, and started forward again. "This is just stupid," Ethan complained as he trailed along behind the duo. "And that's saying alot because I'm usually ok with stupid stuff."

Coming to a sudden stop, Shawn held his hand up in a gesture for the two behind him to halt. "Look," he said in a hushed whisper.

Leaning around, Gus to the right and Ethan to the left, they spotted a pair of feet and legs sticking out from among the props. "Uh, Shawn, maybe we should call Lassiter," Gus suggested, taking a step back. "We don't know if this guy is a killer or not."

"Oh, he's not. Or at least, no one can prove it yet," Shawn responded. He snatched up a rubber skull and threw it. "Hey!"

The skull bounced against the foot. The young man attacked to the feet gave a start and the feet were pulled out of view. A moment later, a face, half hidden by a pair of thick glasses, peered at them. He pulled a set of headphones off his head. "Who are you?" he asked in suspicion.

"My name is Shawn Spencer, and this is my partner Burton the Supersniffer Guster," Shawn introduced much to Gus' consternation. "And my cousin Ethan. Who are you?"

"My name is Eric Matthews," the young man answered nervously. He pushed his glasses further up his nose. "What are you doing up here? No one ever comes up here."

"I think we could ask you the same thing," Gus pointed out.

Eric Matthews pushed himself upright. Gus took a step back. but Shawn and Ethan studied the young man with open interest. "Well, since no one ever comes up here, it's a good place to think and work," he responded, his tone nervous. "I have a song I'm trying to write. Why are you three up here? No one ever comes up here."

"Well, we did. Eric, I am a psychic detective," Shawn informed him, ignoring Ethan's snort. "How about you tell us about the work you did with Agnes Simmons."

The young man's face brightened. "Agnes? Did they find her?" he asked, his voice filled with relief.

Shawn frowned for a moment. "You could say that," Gus answered, speaking up first. "She was actually found-."

"You called in the tip about her being missing!" Ethan exclaimed suddenly, cutting off Gus's revelation about Agnes' fate. Everyone looked at him and he shrugged. "I heard the chief talking about an anonymous tip to the mayor's office that prompted the investigation. This guy called it in, didn't you?" he asked looking at the man.

"Yeah, I called the mayor," Eric responded, rubbing his hands against the side of his legs. "After I tried calling the police several times. I saw someone attack Agnes when she left the theater on Wednesday. They drove off in her car. The manager kept trying to convince everyone that Agnes was just taking some personal time."

"That's right. They haven't found her car yet," Gus realized. "Maybe the killer still has it."

The four exchanged looks and nodded in agreement. "But you haven't answered Shawn's question," Ethan said. "What did you do with Agnes Simmons? How did you know her?"

Eric's face flushed with embarrassment. "The manager was going to shut the play down because he didn't like the music," he answered. "Agnes heard me composing up here and asked if I could help her, so I fixed the music for the play. It was easy."

"He really is the Phantom," Gus realized.

"Except he's not deformed and isn't living underneath a gothic opera house," Ethan pointed out. Shawn sent him an astonished look. "What? Evie went through a phase where that's all she would listen to. She was singing the songs for days."

"Mom did the same thing," Shawn informed him, commiseratingly. "Come on, Eric. We're going to need your help down in the street. I find it easier to connect with things when I can be on the scene as you describe what you saw on Wednesday."

Eric blinked, his thick glasses making him appear owlish. "What?"

Reaching over, Shawn took him by the arm and steered him towards the ladder they had come up. "Trust me."

"Uh, ok?"

"That is a terrible decision," Ethan muttered as he took up the rear.


	8. Losses, Understandings, and Pizza

_**A/N: I reference another show and a fanon theory. ;)**_

* * *

The moment he stepped into the lobby of the theater, Shawn knew he was about to lose his main informant. Lassiter and O'Hara were there, talking to Mr. Carter. Before Shawn could maneuver Eric out of sight, the manager saw them and pointed straight at Eric.

"That's the guy, Detectives," he declared loudly.

"Detectives!" Shawn called out, in an attempt to stave off the inevitable. "Fancy meeting you here. I didn't know you were a fan of the arts."

Lassiter spun around. "Eric Matthews," he barked out, ignoring Shawn and company. "I'm Detective Carlton Lassiter. I'm going to need you to come down to the station. I have a few questions regarding your relationship with one Agnes Simmons."

Uneasily, Eric pushed up his glasses in what Shawn assumed was a nervous habit. "What kind of questions?" he asked. "Agnes is my friend. Have you found her? Is she alright?"

"I need you to come down to the station," Lassiter repeated firmly.

"We just need to clarify a few details about you and Agnes," O'Hara added.

Eric glanced at Shawn and shrugged helplessly. "Ok," he responded. "If it will help you find Agnes, of course I will answer any questions you have for me."

"But she's -," Ethan began to explain that he had found the woman's body, but he was cut off by Shawn's hand over his mouth.

"We'll catch up to you later then, Eric," Shawn said. He nudged Gus. "Gus will give you our card. Call us if you need us for anything. And I mean anything. Well, within reason. Gus is not the adventurous type."

The young man accepted the card in a bemused kind of way and followed the detectives out. Shawn turned to the manager, who looked rather pleased by the turn of events. "When you said we could talk to everyone here, you didn't mention Eric spent time upstairs," he remarked conversationally. "Seeing as he was the last person to see Agnes here, that kind of information is important."

"It slipped my mind," Mr. Carter said defensively. "Mr. Matthews agreement was with the former manager. How did you know he was there?"

"Is that any kind of question to ask a psychic?" Shawn asked.

Ethan frowned at him. "Now that Agnes has been found, god rest her soul, I must ask you to leave," Carter said firmly. "The company needs to focus on the play and grieve Agnes. Your presence here will only distress them."

"'Distress' them?" Shawn repeated with a laugh. "Dude this is the twenty first century. I don't think anyone is going to be 'distressed'. And I'm a professional. Why would a competent psychic bother them?"

The manager's face turned bright red. "Shawn, I think it would best if we left for now," Gus said, grabbing his friend's arm. "We'll be back," he said to Mr. Carter as Shawn turned on his heel and walked away. As he hurried after his friend, Gus glanced over his shoulder and caught the manager glaring at them. "He's not a happy camper now. I wonder why."

"Because I ask too many questions," Shawn responded. "The answer is here. The key to this whole case is here. I know it!"

"So now the police are going to handle the case?" Ethan asked.

"If we let the police handle it, they will arrest Eric for the murder and will stop looking for the real killer," Shawn informed him. "No. We are not going to let this injustice occur! We will continue to fight until the truth comes out!"

"How do you know he's not the real murderer?"

Pausing on the steps, Shawn faced Ethan and Gus. "Of all the people we've talked to today, who has acted the most suspicious?" he asked. "And this isn't a hypothetical question. I want to know what you think."

Gus and Ethan exchanged looks. "The manager," the twelve year old answered readily. "But he and Eric are the only ones I've heard you talk to so I can't really say for sure who is suspicious and who isn't."

"Then, you're just going to have to trust me when I say that Eric is innocent," Shawn declared. "And we are going to prove it."

"How?"

"I wonder if Dad and Evie want pizza tonight," Shawn said, ignoring the question. "Let's plan on that. Now, the spirits say we need to unwind. To the arcade!"

He spun and jogged down the remaining steps. "I don't know if I should be skeptical or happy to be going to the arcade," Ethan commented.

"You're sounding an awful lot like the responsible twin," Gus pointed out. "Do you change mid-year to keep from terrorizing your teachers with a sudden change in behavior?"

A horrified expression crossed Ethan's face. "No," he denied. "The beginning of the school year is when we switch off. This is horrible! It's not my turn to be responsible yet! This is all Evie's fault! Why did she have to go and believe something ridiculous and mess everything up?"

"Maybe you're more responsible than you think."

"Gus! Let's go!" Shawn called out from the car. "Time's wasting!"

Gus noticed that it was a very thoughtful Ethan who followed him to the car. He could only hope that it lasted for the rest of the day. Shawn had gone into his crazy, immature mood and Gus did not want to deal with two people like that!

* * *

The sun was setting when Shawn took the last slice of pizza from the box, and he turned to survey the scene as he took a bite. Evie and Ethan were sitting on opposite ends of the room, having what appeared to be a wordless conversation if their facial expressions were anything to go by. Henry was finishing his beer, looking pleased about something. Gus had declined to share the meal, citing paperwork that needed to be turned in for his pharmaceutical route.

"The police have a suspect for the murder of the girl you dragged out of the ocean," Shawn informed his father. "An Eric Matthews who had helped Agnes with some of the play."

Stretching out his arms, Henry responded, "Good."

Shawn shook his head. "No, not good. They have the wrong man."

"Do they? Or are you just annoyed that you are not the one to catch him?"

Scoffing, Shawn returned to his seat. He noticed that the twins had abandoned their silent discussion and were watching him and his dad. "So, what did you and Evie do this afternoon?" he asked. "Anything fun?"

"Uncle Henry made me practice spotting things without using my sketchbook," Evie answered with a grimace. "My brain hurts now."

"Dad, I don't think Mom would like to hear that you're pestering Evie like that," Shawn warned.

"It's not 'pestering,'" Henry answered, a note of offense in his voice. "It's teaching her how to put her talent to good use. She's getting better about remembering what she's seen without using her sketchbook."

"It is pestering if she doesn't want to do it in the first place," Shawn pointed out. "She's just a kid, Dad."

"Just because you think I ruined your childhood, doesn't mean I actually did, or that I'm doing it to Evie," Henry told his son sharply. He stood up and started collecting the plates. "You know what? It doesn't matter. You're going to think whatever it is you're going to think. We won't talk about it anymore."

Evie glanced between them uneasily. "I'm sorry," she said, hunching her shoulders. "Please don't fight."

"It's not your fault, kiddo," Henry told her. "This is a long standing disagreement between me and Shawn. It has nothing to do with you."

"Evie, I know what we should do before summer ends and we go back to school," Ethan called out. "We should give Eliot a call. Maybe he's in the country again and would let us do something fun with him. That would be pretty awesome, right?"

Both Shawn and Henry turned towards the twins. "Eliot?" Henry repeated. "As in Eliot Spencer? Where did you meet your cousin Eliot?"

The twins both took on innocent looks. "In L.A.," Evie answered, a grin brightening her face. "We went with Mom to one of her conferences last summer and we met Eliot outside of some office building while we were sightseeing. He caught a pickpocket right in front of us."

"It was the coolest thing. Eliot is awesome," Ethan said enthusiastically. "The next day I saw him take out five guys with crowbars. It took us a few days to figure out that we were related and we tracked him down. He took us for ice cream. He gave us his phone number in case we ever needed him."

Closing his eyes, Henry counted to ten. "I didn't know that Eliot was out of the army," Shawn commented. "Did you know about this, Dad? I should call him up and see what he's doing with his life. He could come visit."

"Shawn, what have I told you about your cousin Eliot?" Henry asked. "He has made bad choices in his life." Shaking his head, he threw his hands in the air. "You know what, never mind."

"I guess everyone has someone in their family who is the black sheep," Evie commented. She hesitated before adding, in a much quieter voice, "But it seems like there are more black sheep in the Spencer family than there are white with Eliot and my dad and you, Shawn."

Sending an accusatory look at his dad, Shawn walked over to his cousin. "Black is the new white, you know," he told her cheerfully. He paused as the wheels in his head began turning. "Black sheep in every family. You're absolutely right, Evie. Brilliant, even."

She blinked in confusion. "What did I say?"

"I will see all of you later," Shawn said, backing towards the door. "Dad, try not to ruin anyone's self esteem. Evie, let the spirits guide you. Ethan, if you do call our cousin Eliot, tell him I am feeling sorely neglected and he ought to come visit."

Ethan and Evie went to the window and watched their cousin hurry to the street. "At what point will he realize that Gus dropped him off and he doesn't have a ride?" Ethan wondered.

"Right about now," Henry answered without looking. Out by the street, Shawn paused and pulled out his phone.

"Whoa. Are you a little bit psychic too, Uncle Henry?" Evie asked over her shoulder.

"I just know Shawn," Henry answered, gathering up the pizza boxes. He noticed his niece frowning in confusion. "Think of it like this. The world famous Sherlock Holmes could always pick up on what was missing on a scene or in a story someone was telling. Why was that?"

The twins exchanged glances. "He was fictional," Evie objected.

"He knew people and how they think," Ethan said at the same time. "Is that why Shawn is so good at solving crimes? He's not psychic but knows people?"

Facing them, Henry hesitated. "Whether or not Shawn is psychic isn't the important thing here," he told them. "He helps people, finds the truth. That is what you two ought to remember about your cousin Shawn."

He turned to leave the room and give them time to think about that. "Does that apply to Cousin Eliot too?" Ethan asked. "Because he does the same thing. At least, that's what he told us, and it wouldn't be fair if one thing only applied to Shawn and not to Eliot."

"That's true, E," Evie agreed.

Frustrated, Henry shook his head. "Let's not talk about Eliot Spencer," he said. "Did either of you leave room for upside down pineapple cake?"

"Yes!" Evie exclaimed, rushing for the kitchen. Groaning his disgust over pineapple, Ethan trailed along behind.


	9. Three Spencers On A Case Is NOT Overkill

When Gus arrived at the Psych office the next morning, he discovered Evie and Ethan sitting in front of the front door. "What are you doing here?" he asked, looking around for Henry's truck. He recognized his partner's motorcycle. "Did Shawn kick you out?"

"We are waiting," Evie answered, scrambling to her feet first. "We knocked but no one opened the door. Ethan tried to pick the lock but he just started learning so that didn't work. We thought you would get here sooner than this."

"Where's your uncle?" Gus asked, getting his key out. "How long have you been waiting?"

"Uncle Henry is probably looking for us," Ethan responded, holding up the cell phone he shared with his sister. "We left a note telling him we were going to work some stuff out alone but he's been calling every ten minutes. We have been here since eight o'clock.'

Gus unlocked the door and pushed it open. "Shawn should be here," he said, deciding to let Shawn deal with the pair. "Shawn!"

"Would he really have not heard us at the door or our phone calls?" Ethan asked as he followed Gus into the office. He spotted Shawn sleeping at one of the desks, his head on the keyboard of the laptop. "Wow. I wish I slept that good."

Evie scoffed, sitting on the arm of the couch. "Trust me, you do," she said. She flipped open her sketchbook and selected a pencil from her backpack. "Was he following a lead, do you think?"

"Only one way to find out," Gus told her. He stepped over to the desk and said, "Shawn! Is that my computer?"

With a start, Shawn sat up. "Gus. Good, you're here," he acknowledged with a yawn. He took in Evie happily sketching and Ethan grinning at him. "Ethan. Evie, what are you doing here? Gus, why did you drag them here at this time of the morning?"

"Don't blame me," Gus told him, snatching his laptop away from Shawn. "I just found them sitting on our doorstep like two abandoned orphans.

"Hey, we're not orphans," Ethan objected as he leaned against the desk. "We still have a dad."

Evie scoffed. "Yeah, somewhere," she muttered.

"He's a treasure hunter, Evie. He's busy."

Glancing between them, Gus cleared his throat, unwilling to get involved in what was obviously a family dispute. Shawn stretched his arms over his head and leaned back in his chair. "So what made you fall asleep on a laptop?" Ethan asked, abandoning his defensive of his father. "Was it a break in the case?"

Instead of answering, Shawn got to his feet. "Does my dad know you two are here?" he asked.

"Not exactly," Ethan admitted freely.

"We left Uncle Henry a note," Evelyn added, glancing up. "It explained that Ethan and I had some stuff to work out and that we would be back once it was done. I don't think he believed us because he's tried calling like twenty times. We didn't want to be yelled at so we didn't pick up."

Picking up his cell phone, Shawn looked over the multiple missed calls from his dad. "Well, I probably should let him know where you are. Talk amongst yourselves until I get back. Gus, look at what I found."

Frowning, Gus turned his attention to the multiple tabs that Shawn had left on the screen of the laptop. Ethan leaned over his shoulder to observe, not saying anything as he scanned the information. They exchanged puzzled looks and then shrugged, not seeing the point. Evie remained where she was, her pencil moving over the paper quickly.

Within a few minutes, Shawn was walking back in, pocketing his cell phone. "Alright, my dad says you both can stay," he announced, "but there are a few conditions that we all have to agree to. Otherwise, he will be here in five minutes to get you, and I think it only fair to warn you that he is not in a very happy mood at the moment."

"What kind of conditions?" Evie asked suspiciously as Ethan responded with a cheerful, "Deal!"

The pair scowled at each other. "We cannot go searching for suspects or dead bodies, and you are not to step foot in the theater," Shawn informed them before they could say anything to each other. "That last bit didn't seem like it would be very hard to do honestly. I'm not even sure why he included that in the list of conditions."

"Then what are we supposed to do to help you solve the case?" Evie asked with a groan. "He's just taking all the fun out of it. It's not fair!"

"But Shawn has already found a suspect, right?" Ethan said. He nodded at the laptop. "That's what that is all about, right?"

"Exactly," Shawn put in before Evie could respond to her brother. He tried to pull the laptop away from Gus, but his friend kept a strong grip on it. Giving up, Shawn faced his cousins. "Isn't it funny that Leander Carter, manager of the theater, didn't mention that he is related to Agnes Simmons."

Evie dropped her sketchbook. "How?"

" _Leander_? His name is Leander?" Ethan asked at the same time. "What kind of name is that?"

"He's a distant cousin of some sort," Shawn explained. "And I don't know, Ethan. Just as Evie said last night, every family has a black sheep and Leander Carter is for Agnes Simmons family."

"So what does that have to do with the case?" Gus asked.

Shawn turned surprised eyes on his partner. "It has everything to do with it, Gus. Try and keep up. First of all, the funding for the current production came from the Simmons family. Two of all, the script came from Agnes Simmons. Three, she wasn't getting any of the credit for any of the work she was doing. And D—." He paused and shook his head. "Actually, no. That was all."

"So why isn't Carter the one dead?" Evelyn asked, leaning forward. "I mean, all that would be motive for Agnes to have sought some kind of retribution."

Gus nodded. "I'm with Evie on this," he said. "I'm not seeing what you're getting at."

"'D' is that she DID try to get credit for her work!" Ethan exclaimed, his eyes lighting up. "And Carter stopped her. Right?"

Raising his hand, Shawn high-fived his young cousin. "Someone was paying attention."

"But how can you prove it? You can only give this information to the police, right?"

Scoffing, Shawn drummed his fingers on the desk. "How would that help matters?" Evie asked. "You said the police already have this information, and they've arrested someone. The case is solved according to them."

"So they were mislead. We can't hold it against them," Ethan said stubbornly. "People make mistakes, Evie." They glared at each for a moment and then turned to Shawn with expectant expressions. "So?"

"What?" Shawn asked.

"How are we going to catch Carter?" Evie asked impatiently.

"You agreed to my dad's conditions."

Ethan shook his head vehemently. "He didn't say anything about getting the proof for a suspect you already had, so technically, we shouldn't get in trouble," he pointed out. He gave a grin. "I like loopholes."

"That must be a family thing," Gus muttered. He closed his computer. "So what are we going to do, Shawn?"

"We're going to go have a talk with the one person who had a view of everything going on in the theater," Shawn said with a grin. "And fortunately, like Ethan just pointed out, the police department did not make the list of forbidden places to visit."

"Evie, we're going to talk to a criminal," Ethan whispered.


	10. A Thrilling Conclusion

_**A/N: I'm not entirely satisfied with this ending. Hopefully, once I'm better, I can rewrite it. Thanks for reading!**_

* * *

"Eric, how's jail life treating you?" Shawn asked as he settled into the chair.

The young man shrugged and pushed his glasses up. "I don't know why they're keeping me here," he answered. "I didn't kill Agnes. I would have never hurt her. I loved her. She was just as much an artist as me."

Observing from the next room, Ethan nodded his head. "He's telling the truth."

"Ethan, you are not a human lie detector," Evie hissed, smacking her brother's arm. "Let me listen."

"Evie, have you not been paying attention? We already know this."

"Both of you need to keep your voices down," Gus told them. "If we get caught in here, we're all going to be in big trouble."

Inside the interrogation room, Shawn nodded sympathetically. "I believe you, Eric," he said. "But you're going to have to help me help you. You saw alot from your hiding place over the theater, didn't you? People talking, that kind of thing?"

Frowning, Eric pushed the bridge of his glasses up again. "Yeah, I suppose. Why?"

"A week or so ago, did Agnes have an argument with Mr Carter?"

The young man's frown deepened and he tilted his head slightly. "Yes, she did," he answered. "I was working on a composition and heard voices. I was too far away to hear what they were saying but I did see when Agnes stormed out. She was furious. I didn't think anything of it when she came back the next morning as cheerful as she normally is—was."

Shawn punched the air victoriously. "I knew it! I figured it out."

Taken aback, Eric stared at him. "What?"

Grinning, the brown haired man leaned forward. "I know who really killed Agnes. So, Eric. You want to help catch a murderer?"

* * *

"I don't think this was a good idea."

"I admit there is a distinct lack of an air of drama," Shawn responded, staring up at the ceiling of the Blueberry."Ideally, we would be doing this on the theater stage, however, that location is off limits and excluding Ethan and Evie at this point would be cruel. So, needs must."

"Yeah, I don't think your dad is going to appreciate your compliance with his rules."

Frowning, Shawn sent a quizzical look at his friend. "My com-what? You need to stop making up words, Gus. If you were trying to say that my dad is going to be annoyed about bringing the twins on a stakeout, then yeah. He probably is."

"Where are they anyway?" Gus asked, pushing himself to look out the window.

After several seconds, he spotted Ethan and Evie on the other side of the parking lot. They were leaning against a lightpole, their heads together as they studied the phone that Ethan held. They each held an ice cream cone, a treat Gus'd had to pay for at the ice cream stand across the street. Then, Shawn shoved Gus back down.

"They're fine," Shawn said dismissively. "Not even getting into trouble. You're going to get us caught."

"Not getting into trouble? What do you call trying to draw on the windows?"

"Gus, they were bored. You can't expect them to have the same level of tolerance for stake outs like we have. They're new to this whole thing."

With a groan, Gus stared at the top of the car. "I can't believe you bailed Eric out of jail for this. Where did you get the money?"

Shawn cleared his throat. "It doesn't matter. Besides, we know he's innocent. How could we let an innocent man sit in jail a moment longer?"

Heaving a sigh, Gus checked the time. "Shawn, we've been here for over an hour. If he was coming, he would have been-."

"He's coming," Eric Matthew's voice came over the walkie-talkie in Shawn's hand.

Startled, Gus pushed himself up just enough to see Leander Carter walking towards the bench. Pushing his glasses up, Eric stood from where he had been sitting and he faced the approaching theater manager.

"Why aren't you in jail?" was the first thing out of Carter's mouth. His voice was more distant than Eric's had been, no doubt due to the fact that Eric was holding the walkie-talkie down by his leg where Carter wouldn't readily see it.

"The detectives decided I was innocent and let me go," Eric answered, his tone nervous. "I would never have hurt Agnes."

Carter gave a huff. "Is there a reason you called me out here, Matthews?"

"Why didn't you tell Detective Lassiter that you had an arguement with Agnes last week?"

"What makes you think that I didn't?"

Eric cleared his throat. "I just find it strange that you were going ahead with your plans for the play when you knew that Agnes was going to be taking over," he said, his tone becoming more confident. "She was doing most of the work."

"What are we supposed to accomplish by this?" Gus asked in a whisper. "If you think it's Carter, why didn't you tell Lassiter and Jules?"

Shawn shushed him quickly. "Without proof? They'd laugh me out of the station, and you know my ego can't stand that."

Carter's laugh reached them, even without the help of the walkie-talkie. "A twenty-three year old just out of college managing a theater? With no experience?" he asked, his tone derisive. "The investors would have pulled their money in an instant."

The walkie-talkie gave a sudden squawk and went silent. "Is this about money?" Gus demanded in a whisper.

"Isn't it always?" Shawn responded in a low voice. He reached for the lever to raise the seat. "We've got to grab Eric and get to Lassiter."

"Stop!" Evie's scream got both of their attention as they popped upright. "Shawn!"

Eric had shoved Carter to the ground and now had his hands around the older man's neck. "You killed her!"

As Shawn and Gus grabbed for the door handles, Ethan came flying across the parking lot and tackled Eric. The twelve year old didn't move the man an inch, but valiantly tried to get some kind of grip on Eric that would keep him from strangling Carter.

"Eric! Let him go, man!" Shawn shouted, sprinting to get his cousin out of harm's way. Ethan hit the ground when Eric jerked sharply and dislodged him. "Hey! This won't bring Agnes back, Eric. She wouldn't want you to land in jail over this."

A familiar maroon car came screeching to a halt beside the Blueberry. "SBPD!" Lassiter shouted, drawing his gun as he exited the from the driver's seat. He aimed at Eric. " Hands in the air!"

With a yelp, Gus put his hands up a dropped to the ground. Shawn's gaze went to where Evelyn was watching with wide, horrified eyes. "Lassiter, don't you dare shoot anyone in front of my cousins!" He turned his attention back to Eric and Carter. "Let the police handle this, Eric. Agnes wants that."

The theater manager struggled for air as Eric's hands remained tight around his neck. "You didn't know Agnes," Eric spat out. "She hated Carter with every fiber of her being."

"Yes, she did and she's not denying that," Shawn responded, hastily bringing his hands up on either side of his head. "But she doesn't want you to go to jail because you decided to avenge her death. Money was never important to her. She just loved the theater."

That seemed to finally reach Eric, who turned his head. His eyes flicked from Shawn to Lassiter and then to Evie. Slowly, he loosened his grip and then raised his hands. O'Hara hurried forward.

"Lassie, what brings you here?" Shawn asked as the detective approached.

Lassitor nodded towards where Evie was helping Ethan up. "I got a call from your cousin who had an interesting theory about Carter meeting up with Matthews," he answered. "Of all the stupid things you've done, Spencer, putting your cousins in company with a criminal out on bail is-."

"Lassie, you can do things your way when you have babysitting duty," Shawn fired back. He gave a grunt when Evie threw herself at Shawn and wrapped her arms around him. "Besides, when you think about it, this couldn't be the worst thing they've been exposed to. Last time they were kidnapped by mafia."

The detective considered and then nodded before going to help take both men into custody. "Ok, which of you called Lassiter?" Shawn asked.

"I did," Evie confessed, twisting her head to look up at him. "Ethan tried to talk me out of it, but the more I thought about it, the more worried I got. Either Eric was the murderer or Carter was, and here we were in the middle. I had to call Detective Lassiter."

"It looks like it was a good thing you did," Shawn told her reasuringly. He disentangled himself from her. "Hold on a moment. I've got to make sure Lassiter gets this right."

As their cousin hurried to catchup to the Head Detective, Ethan joined his sister. "Did you tell him you called Uncle Henry?" he asked.

"I didn't have a chance but I figure Uncle Henry will be calling him any minute now," Evie responded. As soon as she finished speaking, Shawn's phone rang. "And that's him."

"Dad, hi. What?...Why would you think that?" Shawn said, sending a betrayed look at the twins.

Ethan turned surprised eyes on her. "Since when are you psychic?"

Evie's grin was mischievous. "It's a recent development."

* * *

Madeleine Spencer climbed out of the taxi and faced her former home. She smiled as the twins came running to her. "Hi duckies," she greeted, holding her arms out. "Did you two have fun with Shawn and your uncle Henry?"

"Mom, you should have seen it," Ethan said, speaking over his sister. "We found a murderer, and I helped keep someone else from killing him."

"Why are you skipping the important parts?" Evie demanded. "Mom, it was just like the movie. Shawn and Ethan found a real life phantom of the opera in a theater and he tried to avenge the killing of the woman he loved from afar. It was really sad."

Raising her eyebrow, Maddie looked up at her ex-husband. "Do I want to know?" she asked.

"Probably not," Henry said wryly. "You can yell at Shawn."

"Do we really have to go back to school?" Ethan asked. "I think Evie and I could learn more if we stay here."

Chuckling, Maddie shook her head. "I don't think so," she said. "Both of you go get your bags. We have to get to the airport."

Groaning simultaneously, the twins ran off, going past Shawn who was coming out. "Mom, don't tell me you can't stay," he said, accepting a hug from his mother. "You just got here."

"Unfortunately, I have to stop in LA for an emergency case before I get the twins to my sister for the start of the school year," Maddie said, regret in her voice. "Thank you for taking them, Henry. I know it's not ideal to keep bringing them with me while I travel for my career but my sister needs a break."

"Anytime, Maddie," Henry told her. "They're my niece and nephew too."

His ex-wife began to grin. "Should I tell them i have tickets for the LA production of Phantom of the Opera?"

"Yes!" Evie exclaimed from the doorway. "Ethan did you hear? We're going to the theater!"

"Kill me now," Ethan said, sagging onto his suitcase.

"You're on your own," Shawn told him sympathetically. "Maybe call up Eliot to get you out of it."

Glee filled Ethan's eyes. "Shawn, do not encourage them!" Henry warned.


End file.
